new album from Juicy LaLa

new album
'eat my heart out'
tracks
1. mango madness
    Wow!  Holy shit and holy cow!  Zing.  I've got that madness in me.  It's full, bitter and cool.
I've got that tasty mango on my tongue dear.  I can feel it rolling right on down my throat.  And you, you are the sexy one dear.  And I could hold you for forever in the space we make together.
Wow, mango madness, try it, its the new brand, fuck yeah, mango madness, can anyone even comprehend?  She says- you can't get this kind of love inside a jar.  Yet I buy three cans of oysters and kombucha mango madness, shit, that shit is good.  Eat oysters with my hands and lift my face up at the wind, wonder how I could ever live without your love again.  Shit yeah!  Got mango madness.  Hell yeah, hell yeah, hell yeah.
2. conch shell blues
   mix birds, dj
    You lost my love in the back of your throat, when you chose to never love me really but use me for yourself, I was just a masturbation, a childhood toy for a daemon-witch, vampire-bitch, she is the one who will never be touched, can't be free, 'touch this language, touch this verb, touch my laughter but never me, touch the dreams we weave together, Ethiopian platter of food, scoop it up with your hand to your mouth, but not me.  You are the producer, and I the director, the rest is just a fantasy.  I use you like everyone, don't worry it will hurt, but that is love right?  Connection?  No good or bad, just power and seduction?'  I've got the conch shell blues, those good old fashioned conch shell blues, because your showing me your vagina, and your flashing me your tits, then you show me your ass, its like your always in control, slip it in me why don't you girl, and I'll give you that money for a little of your time, real needs, needing to be touched, I'll trade you what I really need and give you myself to be consumed as inferior and other words you use as weapons to kill anyone who ever loved you.  Oh, I've got the conch shell blues, those Monday/Tuesday conch shell blues, I've got the rag-tag, turned-over and tossed-out conch shell blues.  The shells sat in her apartment on the Upper West side, like a shinning invitation, Scorpion sensation.  Who owns who at the end of the day, I own me and you own you and we own each other, so look what you've made, a mess out of love because you couldn't make it, no you never could ever make it girl, with me.